Worth the Trade. Kristina Mathews

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ organization. A team that’s only going to move forward.”

      “Yeah. I’ve loved playing with these guys this year. More than being a collection of all-stars, it really feels like a team, you know?”

      “I haven’t quite felt like one of the guys yet.” Marco had never had trouble fitting in with his teammates. But not this time. Mostly because he felt like he was letting everybody down. He didn’t want to be the reason they didn’t make it to the postseason.

      “You will. You’ve been with the team, what, a week?”

      “Ten days.” Ten days and he hadn’t done shit. Other than hit on his new owner, struggle at the plate and keep to himself. Yeah, that was a good way to fit into the clubhouse.

      “You’ll feel like one of us by the end of this home stand. They traded for you for a reason. I’m sure you’ll be a key member of this team by the end of October.”

      “Easy for you to say. You’re The Monk. You’re sure of everything.”

      The other man just laughed.

      “What looked like confidence on the outside”—Johnny turned and gave him a serious stare—“was just a way of covering up my fear. For most of my career, I was too scared to get rattled. Afraid if I let up for one game, one pitch, the whole world would find out I was a fraud.”

      “You’re hardly a fraud.” Marco had a hard time picturing future Hall of Famer Johnny Scottsdale as having any doubts. “You’re practically perfect.”

      “I was perfect. Once. For nine innings. I got over it.” Johnny also had two Cy Young Awards. “Besides, I still had to come out to the ballpark week after week. Play my game, even though I knew I wasn’t going to be perfect. I knew I’d make mistakes. And it wasn’t until I realized that I didn’t have to be perfect that I was able to relax again. I just have to go out there and be the best I can be on that day.”

      “You know, that’s probably the best advice anyone’s ever given me.”

      “Anytime.” Johnny stretched out his legs, leaned back in his seat, and tried to relax a little.

      “How’d you do it all those years?” Marco needed to know about the non-baseball stuff. “How did you stay a monk off the field?”

      Johnny chuckled. Shook his head and pulled his legs up so he could rest his elbows on his knees.

      “It was actually a lot easier than you’d think.” He gave Marco a sideways glance. “For me, anyway. I could resist temptation because there was really only one woman for me.”

      “Your wife.” Envy shook Marco like a blast of turbulence. “How did you know she was the one?”

      “I just did. It’s hard to explain, especially since she married my best friend right after I left for the minor leagues.” Johnny leaned back, stretching out again. “But it was already too late. She had me the first time we met.”

      “And you never even looked at another woman?” Marco was starting to understand what that felt like. There had been women on the road trip who normally would have caught his eye, but he wasn’t interested. Not now. He could tell himself it was because of the slump, but he’d busted out of slumps before with the help of a little female companionship.

      “You ever play any other sports?” Johnny asked. “As a kid?”

      “Sure. I played soccer a couple of years.” Marco wasn’t sure what this had to do with his question. Maybe Johnny was just tired of the whole monk thing. “But after a while, I gave it up.”

      “Were you any good at it?”

      “Sure. I was fast. Aggressive. Could kick the ball pretty hard.”

      “So why did you quit?” There was something in Johnny’s voice that made Marco think he was leading him somewhere.

      “I didn’t love it.” Marco shrugged, still not sure what soccer had to do with his problem with Hunter. “I knew baseball was it for me.”

      “But you could have kept playing soccer, right? You might have been really good.”

      “True. But why take a spot away from someone who really wanted it?”

      “Why be with a woman if she’s not the one you really want?” Johnny asked.

      Okay, he got the picture now. Mostly.

      “I don’t know, man. If I got cut from the baseball team, I might have taken up another sport. How’d you do it knowing you couldn’t have her? It would be like if you’d quit after throwing your perfect game, knowing you’d give up a hit again.”

      Johnny folded his hands behind his head. “I guess you could say I gave up on women, but I never really gave up on Alice. My secret, or whatever, was to channel it all into my game. The night I threw the perfect game? It would have been her tenth wedding anniversary.”

      “Really?” Marco was even more impressed now.

      “Yeah. So I did the only thing I knew how to do, I pitched my heart out.” Johnny chuckled. “Good thing I had some of it left when I found out she was no longer married.”

      “I think I will take a look at your apartment tomorrow.” Marco felt a little like he’d walked in on a private moment. Johnny’s very public perfect game had a personal meaning behind it. “But call me when you’re ready. You need to spend time with your wife.”

      “Don’t worry. We’re pretty good at making up for lost time.” He grinned, obviously looking forward to reuniting with Mrs. Scottsdale. “So tell me, is there someone back in St. Louis? Someone you’re trying to figure out if she’s more like baseball or soccer?”

      “No. Not in St. Louis. Or Florida or Texas.” Marco couldn’t admit that he was hung up on a woman he couldn’t have. He knew she wasn’t like soccer, just a way to get his kicks. But he didn’t know if Hunter could be it for him. Could she be more to him than the game itself?

      * * * *

      The road trip hadn’t been a total disaster. They hadn’t lost any ground. But they hadn’t gained any. Every time the Goliaths won, so did their rivals. Every time L.A. lost a game, San Francisco dropped one, too.

      Hunter was getting anxious as the remaining games became fewer and fewer in number. It was still too early for either team to start thinking about the magic number—that mathematical combination of wins by the leading team, losses by the second place team, and games left to play—but the tension was mounting.

      She’d feel a lot better when the team was back on home soil. More in control of things. The players each had their own pregame rituals, and she had hers. Intellectually, she knew it didn’t change the outcome of the game if she didn’t line up the bobbleheads in her office just so, or forget to pat the large foam finger proclaiming We’re #1! as she left the office for the day. She knew turning her broom bristle side up after winning the first two games of a series wouldn’t guarantee a sweep, but she did it anyway. It couldn’t hurt.

      And maybe, just maybe, a little pregame warm-up might be necessary to get Marco Santiago out of his slump.

СКАЧАТЬ